


The Woman Who Would Be Queen

by delovelie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Princess Bride Fusion, Daniel Lives, F/M, Original Character(s), Pirates, True Love, various fairytale characters not shown on the series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-08 07:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19865539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delovelie/pseuds/delovelie
Summary: Right when Cora discovers Regina and Daniel in the barn about to run away and cuts off all their exits, Regina makes a fateful bargain, one that means Daniel leaves the barn alive that night while she is swept unstoppably on a path that is at once very familiar to viewers of the show and completely different. The OUAT universe is woven together with the Princess Bride's Florin and Guilder, with Regina and Daniel taking on the roles of Buttercup and Wesley.





	1. The beginning - "As you wish"

**Author's Note:**

> Anything that became OUAT canon after season 3 is ignored unless I especially liked it.  
> Warnings for depictions of abuse, including sexual abuse in later chapters because Leopold (the latter not too graphic).
> 
> All my thanks to my wonderful betas Starbooks13 and imamarvelhesadc, for their insights, suggestions, encouragement, plot speculation, commentary, and above all for believing in this story.

Regina’s purposeful stride and brisk, commanding voice broke the barn’s pre-dawn silence.

“Stable boy, get me my bridle?”

Daniel startled. He had been leaning on the door of the stall he was supposed to be mucking out, pausing at his morning chores to take in the peaceful silence and let his mind wander. It was not even dawn, and the dark air had a lingering chill to it that made the early spring still feel like the icy choke of winter. Normally he would be alone at this hour with only the horses and his own thoughts for company. The Mills household—the family he served—should not be stirring for several hours yet. But that clearly wasn’t the case today.

Regina didn’t seem to notice he had been slacking. She walked past him headed straight for her favorite horse’s stall, hardly sparing Daniel a glance as she did.

Daniel collected himself and gave the same reply he always had for her: “As you wish.”

Maybe she threw him a small smile over her shoulder. Maybe.

But more likely it was just his wishful thinking imagining the quirk in her lips. He shook his head. He shouldn’t be looking for signs of hope when it was impossible. She was an heiress, he was a stable boy. Besides, she only ever had eyes for one man in the barn: The bright-eyed, mischievous chestnut gelding at the end. Her beloved Rocinante.

Regina stopped at his stall and rubbed Rocinante’s nose affectionately in greeting. She looked decidedly unlike a noble in her brown riding pants faded from wear and a loose-fitting gray woolen sweater. Her long, nearly-black hair was tied back in a practical bun and she didn’t have a trace of makeup on. But even in her plainest barn clothes, she still carried herself like an aristocrat. Her stride, poise, and casual way of giving commands gave her away.

Daniel grabbed the requested bridle off its hook, but he lingered around the corner of the aisle for a moment. He saw Regina pull a large apple out of her pocket and feed it to Rocinante. The horse sighed in pleasure as he chewed and rubbed his face against Regina’s chest. She laughed as his juicy, appley drool left wet streaks on her sweater. She massaged the base of his ears, murmuring something Daniel couldn’t hear but could only be affectionate. She was so beautiful, and Daniel could never be with her.

Daniel had never seen a smile as radiant or expressive as Regina’s when she was fussing with Rocinante and thought no one was watching. Daniel judged people based on how they treated animals, especially those considered mangy or less valuable. He found this was an excellent predictor of character. Though he looked clean and healthy now, Rocinante had been the definition of mangy and useless when he’d first arrived a year ago, guided every step of the way by an adoring and very smug teenage Regina.

Daniel had never meant to fall for a noble. Sure, he sometimes daydreamed about journeying far from home, having daring adventures, and winning the heart of a beautiful girl along the way, but he thought he was sensible enough not to do _that._ But Regina was so much more than the stuck-up noblewomen he usually served, like her ladyship Cora Mills for example. Regina was never condescending and never barked orders. Frequently, he saw Regina in the barn humming while painstakingly cleaning and oiling every strap of her saddle and bridle after a ride. It was a tedious and dirty chore girls left for stablehands like him to do. But Regina did it herself, somehow managing to be both regal and plain. In fact, she was most regal when she looked plain, covered in dust, oil, and horsehair. And horse drool.

“Your bridle,” he offered with a slight bow.

“Thank you,” Regina said.

That was the other thing about Regina. Unlike every other master and mistress Daniel had served over the years, she always said “thank you.”

Sadly, that was about the extent of their conversations. Regina didn’t look down on him, she didn’t chat with him either. There was no way there could be anything real between them, only dreams.

Daniel went back to mucking while Regina brushed Rocinante. She bridled him, patted his back one last time, and undid the stall’s bolt to leave.

Daniel’s brow furrowed and his mouth was moving before he could stop it. “Regina!”

She turned around, eyebrows raised and head cocked in question.

_Do you want company? Do you want me to come ride with you?_

Daniel’s eyes darted to the ground. “It’s… um… Didn’t you want your saddle?”

“No, I’d prefer to go without it.”

“Oh. Just be careful. Don’t fall.”

She smiled as she turned back around. “I won’t.”

Daniel felt like an idiot. When she was gone, he thumped his head against the nearest post. “As you wish,” he whispered to the air she’d left behind.

Regina breathed into her hands through her thin riding gloves to stave off numbness as she led Rocinante away from the barn. The best part of going out in the morning was watching dawn’s light cut through the darkness before the sun even came up. She needed to do this more often.

She loved the feel of the morning, the unstartled hopefulness of it. There was a sense that anything at all was possible in the world. Even better, Mother wouldn’t be awake for hours and couldn’t criticize Regina for sneaking a ride.

The open fields at the edge of the woods felt so quiet and still, as if spellbound. There was no sound but for the stray trill of a bird. Regina wasted no time getting on Rocinante’s bare back, setting a brisk pace to warm up. Once she was working her muscles, she shed her bulky sweater and tossed it onto a fence post. The sky lightened with every moment, moving from indigo to watercolor blues and purples.

Rocinante was familiar and sure-footed. Regina breathed, in and out. Nudged him into a canter. Without the saddle, she felt more connected with his movements. It was like being part of a surging river rather than riding on top of it.

Ironically, it had been Mother who had first insisted Regina learn to ride. “ _It’s proper for a noble girl to have poise on a horse,_ ” she’d said. But when Regina started to love it and doing more than merely sit poised—race and jump and wheel around obstacles—Cora had turned up her nose. “ _You ride like a man. It’s unbecoming_.” She made it abundantly clear that Regina’s hours in the saddle were a waste of time that could be better employed elsewhere, like learning the tactics of famous conquerors or developing her nonexistent dancing skills.

No matter what she did, Regina was never good enough for her. Had Mother ever been proud of her? Maybe when she’d been little, and Mother still dotingly preened her like a doll and whispered things like, “You are going to do great things, my Regina. There is nothing you cannot do.”

_Nothing except please you, Mother._

Regina’s thoughts had only drifted for a moment, but she’d lost concentration. Her posture stiffened and she fell out of rhythm with Rocinante’s rolling canter and started slipping off one side. She dug her fingers into his mane trying to right herself, but too late. Next thing she knew, she on the ground.

Her thigh and rear took the impact of the fall. Regina laid her back, closed her eyes, and pounded her fists on the grass in frustration. She was never going to be taken seriously as a competition rider this way. Not that it would matter if she couldn’t even enter an event. Mother would never allow it.

Regina was never supposed to fall in love with riding, or Rocinante. He was the antithesis of Mother’s “dignified” horses: matching sleek, pitch-black Friesians that held their heads perfectly straight like they had sprung from a painting. Rocinante was a chestnut with a wide-set white blaze down his nose, lots of fluffy and unkempt hair trimming his cheeks, no pedigree, and an attitude problem. But he had won Regina’s heart from the moment she saw him, malnourished and abused by his old owner.

Mother had only let him stay when Regina brought him home from auction because she thought he would die and it would teach Regina a lesson. But he recovered handsomely. Then, when Rocinante turned out to be an athletic jumper, better than even the Friesians, Cora detested him. He was a survivor, and Regina loved him fiercely for it.

Rocinante’s concerned nicker brought Regina back to the present. His reins dragged on the ground as he scrutinized her with a sideways glance. He pushed her firmly in the ribs with his nose once. When she didn’t react, he pushed her again, more roughly. _Get up._

“Okay, okay,” Regina said, sitting up. “Bully.”

Hadn’t the stable boy told her not to fall?

She turned that thought over in her head like a pebble. His concern… maybe it was sweet?

She shook her head. It was nothing.

Regina loved riding and Rocinante so much. They made her heart beat like nothing else. She wanted to do more: go to competitions, prove to everyone what they were capable of doing together. Regina and Rocinante—the dream team.

Maybe if Regina started winning events, too, Mother would finally be proud of her _._

Regina imagined the thrill of competition. But, more importantly, she also imagined finding friendship with other equestrians who shared her passion and understood her. People cheering each other on, trading stories about their horses. She pictured finding love there too. Someone who would be the first to her side when she fell. Who would run up and kiss her fiercely after she exited the ring, the adrenaline still pumping in her blood. Who would whisper to her in their moments alone that she was the greatest thing that ever happened to them.

She swore Rocinante sighed in exasperation before he pushed her again.


	2. Rocinante

Somewhere to the Northwest, past the orchards and swath of woodland the Mills family owned, Cider Glen, the town where Daniel had grown up, was getting to work. Cows were being milked and daughters were making cheese. Cider-makers were fermenting apple juice into the town’s namesake trade goods. The old woodcutter would be hauling her first load from the forest in the sling that crossed her forehead, bent over nearly double from the weight of the logs. The baker’s shop would be smelling of fresh-from-the-oven bread and sweet pastries filled with last season’s preserves. Boys Daniel’s age would be offering their saved their pennies to buy treats for the girls they were courting…

“Catch!” came a pert shout as a roll went flying in his direction. It hit his shoulder and fell to the grass.

Daniel turned. A young woman with coppery-brown skin, bushy black eyebrows, a hooked nose, and a crooked smile stood there. “Asleep on the job, Daniel?”

Daniel scrambled for the roll. “No I was just…”

“Thinking about her, weren’t ya?” she cut in.

Daniel’s face felt hot. “Angharrad…”

“Don’t try. Just get your breakfast.”

Angharrad flopped down next to him, unwrapping a hunk of cheese from a cloth.

“Thanks.” He tore into the roll with his teeth. “She left with Rocinante a few minutes ago. I opened my mouth to talk to her and stuck my foot right in it.”

“You’re hopeless, loverboy,” Angharrad said.

Daniel elbowed her in the ribs.

“You want my advice?” she continued, undeterred, “Forget about her. She’s nothing but a spoiled rich girl. Our world and hers don’t mix. Besides, there are plenty of other pretty girls out there; some of them will actually notice you.”

Daniel smirked. “So you admit she’s pretty?”

Angharrad elbowed him this time. “I still don’t get why you’re so interested in her. And yeah, I _know_ the story—” she added before Daniel could open his mouth “—about Rocinante and the tavern and everything. No matter how many times you tell it, it still doesn’t make sense to me. I can’t see myself ever wasting my energy dreaming about someone who wasn’t attracted to me.”

“I guess that’s where you and I are different.”

They ate in silence for a while. After a long moment, Daniel spoke again. “Do you ever wonder about how your life could have turned out if things had gone a little differently?”

“You mean like if you’d been born rich and Regina actually noticed you?” Angharrad teased sardonically.

“No.”

“Good. I wouldn’t like you very much if you were some noble brat.”

“I meant like if one thing hadn’t happened, how would it affect the rest of your life? If my father hadn’t left, if your uncle hadn’t sold you to servitude, if Cider Glen’s animal healer hadn’t been called away to war and I had continued my training under him.”

Angharrad tore a fresh roll in a particularly fierce way. “My uncle was a maggot who thought of us kids as parasites. Your father was at least a half-decent human being, even if he was a selfish coward. The _royals_ ”—she spat the word with disgust—“squabble about stupid shit that doesn’t matter. I don’t think there’s really any point thinking about ‘what if’s’ and such. Life’s got plenty of cruelty and misfortune to throw around. One bad thing didn’t happen, another would, and that’s the way it is. You just got to deal with the situation you’re in.”

“You’re a pessimist.”

“I’m practical.”

Daniel took the last wedge of cheese. Angharrad might act like she didn’t care, but she clearly did. She wouldn’t be so bitter otherwise.

Angharrad got up and brushed the crumbs from her apron. “I should be getting back so I can finish laundry before the lady of the house wakes. See you later, Daniel.”

Daniel finished his last mouthfuls and went back to mucking stalls.

The sun had well cleared the horizon by the time Regina returned with Rocinante. She put him back in his stall and removed his bridle. Daniel was busy scrubbing a particularly difficult spot in Gracie’s water trough, but when he looked up, he noticed grass and soil stains up and down Regina’s breeches. He pulled his arm out of the trough and straightened. He opened his mouth, but the words stuck his throat.

At the same time, Regina craned her neck to see the Mills mansion. “Shit,” she cursed softly and rushed into the tack room. Daniel followed her gaze. One of the windows on the second floor and several on the ground floor were lit.

“Stable boy, would you mind terribly if you finished grooming Rocinante for me?” Regina said, leaning over Gracie’s stall door. “I absolutely have to run; I stayed out too long. Thank you so much!” She took off down the path leading to the house as soon as Daniel gave his usual reply. But as she did, a piece of paper fluttered down from her pocket.

Daniel rushed to pick it up. “Regina! Wait!” he yelled, but she was already too far away to hear. Curious, Daniel unfolded it. It was a flyer.

“The Fox and Horn Horse Show,” he read aloud. “Hawthorn Creek. Open entry… riders of all levels… hunter, jumper, flat.” Why would Regina be carrying this around?

A horse nickered insistently and Daniel looked up. Rocinante was stretching his head out toward the flyer. Puzzled, Daniel held it out to him. “What, you want to eat it?”

Rocinante bobbed his head, chin brushing against the flyer but not nibbling on it. Then he bumped Daniel’s hand with his nose and nickered again. He seemed to be motioning in the direction of Regina’s retreating figure. “You’re such an oddball,” Daniel muttered. He pocketed the flyer.

With horses fed and turned out, coats groomed, hooves picked, troughs scrubbed, evening feed measured and prepared, stalls mucked, fresh bedding laid, leather harnesses oiled, arena dragged, and barn swept, Daniel was looking at an afternoon of relative peace and freedom. None of the Mills family had called on him to prepare the carriages or drive them anywhere. This seemed be one of the rare days they were staying in, eliminating a large chunk of his duties, and he was going to take advantage of it. Of course, the Friesians would still need schooling and his herb garden was sprouting weeds, but he reasoned the black horses would be okay with some lunging and the weeds could stay in the ground another day. He had a more important personal errand to run.

He reported to the head footman that he’d be gone for a few hours and set off toward town.

Despite Angharrad’s opinions that such thoughts were a waste of time, Daniel did wonder how his life could’ve turned out differently if he had continued as an apprentice. Would he have still met Regina? Would it have been on different terms?

Daniel had been about eleven years old when he started apprenticing. In the few seasons it lasted, he’d learned to birth calves, dress cuts and sores, recognize and treat common diseases, and set broken bones. He’d seen what wolves could do to a full-grown bull and what gangrene did to a limb overnight. It had been great work, much better than cleaning stables, and he still missed it. Someday he intended to go back.

Daniel knew little about the skirmishes of the distant royals and fights over thrones that turned into bloody fields full of carrion crows. To him, war only meant he lost a mentor and the town lost the only healer it had to tend to its livestock. His skills were needed to heal knight’s horses, they’d said. How could that have been more important than his work at home?

It had been a cold, brutal winter that year the healer had been called away. Some flu-like infection had spread through the village’s livestock. With no one on hand to care for them or stop the spread of the disease, and with the roads in and out of town impassable, nearly all the cows fell ill and the summer’s calves perished.

Daniel kept walking. By now, he’d reached town and was passing familiar sights. Cottages perched on hillsides, wells for drawing water, public halls and taverns for gathering. Shrines and sanctuaries dedicated to the spirits and magical beings of the Enchanted Forest peeked out from thickets at the edge of the woods. Daniel waved to Merle the butcher, who made the best sausage links he’d ever tasted.

Suddenly, a group of little kids darted into the road, nearly barreling into Daniel and startling him. They hollered something unintelligible as they chased the kid in the lead like a small mob. They were all dressed in rags, and a few didn’t even have shoes, their feet wrapped crudely with strips of cloth.

There were a lot of very poor people on this side of town. People said kids here were like feral cats, running wild all day with no one watching over them. Their parents didn’t care—if they had any. Daniel’s eyes followed the group as they ran and hollered some more before disappearing down an alley.

He looked up and couldn’t stifle a gasp. Then he shook his head. It was only a pale, faded old towel or blanket that had been hung out to dry on a clothesline. The cloth was so worn that the edges were completely frayed. Behind it hung a russet-colored skirt, and the pairing of the two had tricked Daniel’s eyes for a moment and jolted him back into an especially vivid memory from his apprenticing days.

It had been an old dapple grey mare, a majestic dame of a horse, brought in by a fidgety young girl, which had made a permanent impression. The mare’s problem hadn’t been readily obvious. She’d stood calmly, solid as an ancient oak tree, as though trying to comfort her nervous young friend. The girl fretted and talked disjointedly, repeating that she hadn’t hurt the mare and begging the healer to help her. Her eyes darted every which way to look at everything but Daniel and his master.

The mare had come wrapped in a horse blanket, which Daniel had assumed was guarding her against the evening chill. It wasn’t.

The girl’s hands shook so much she couldn’t undo the buckles and Daniel’s mentor had to help her. When he finally slid the blanket off the mare’s back, Daniel turned away, dry heaving and gagging on bile. The mare’s lovely pale coat was in tatters, like a piece of cloth that had been slashed again and again and again with a dull knife and left frayed. There was so much blood. Even when he wasn’t looking, he could _smell_ it. The metallic tang of it was so pungent he could taste iron in his mouth.

His tutor gave the mare a tranquilizing tincture, tied her to a post, and left her standing there to attend to the mousy girl. He talked to her, offered warm milk, kept asking her questions, asking if _she_ was okay. Daniel couldn’t believe it. Obviously the girl was fine; the mare was the one dripping sticky blood on the stable floor. After much coaxing, she finally admitted that her father had taken the whip to the horse. He’d come home drunk and angry. She’d gone to the barn to avoid him, but he’d found her with the mare. Daniel’s mentor kept asking if the man had touched the girl, which Daniel didn’t understand. He wanted to take care of the horse and didn’t understand what the delay was.

In the end, there was little they could do but stitch up the mare’s deepest wounds and clean her up a bit because the girl refused to let them stable her overnight. When it was all over, Daniel felt numb and exhausted, even though he hadn’t done much. It had probably been the shock.

After girl and horse were gone, Daniel had asked, “Why did you leave the mare standing there so long when she was hurt so bad?”

“The tincture needs time to work and numb the pain.”

It made sense, but still seemed a frustratingly poor explanation. The tincture worked faster than that.

His tutor kept cleaning his work tools. Daniel should’ve been helping, but the image of the mare’s back so frayed, of red on a white-stained-gray coat, gripped his mind. He didn’t understand how his tutor could be so calm after seeing that. Daniel wanted to scream. “I hate him. I hate that man. How could someone do that to a horse—to any animal—for no reason at all?”

His tutor put down the rag and appraised Daniel in silence, offering no response.

“Don’t you hate him?” Daniel insisted.

The older man sighed and finally spoke. “Daniel, son, you’re so young. You see things the way they should be. But the truth is, what men do with whips and knives are some of the smallest cruelties they are capable of. They can do far more damage without leaving bruises or blood.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And I would wish you never do, but that’s a fool’s wish. Everyone comes to see it.” He shook his head. “But if it makes you feel better, then yes, I am angry at that man too, and I hate to send that girl and her mare back to him.”

After passing Merle’s shop, Daniel turned and walked along the main road heading toward the market square, took an uphill lane and went until the rows of two-story buildings that clustered close together in the heart of town thinned. Within ten minutes, he made it to the familiar cottage where he’d grown up. He knew every inch of it by heart, from the moss-covered roof to the dangling windchimes to the weathered stone fence surrounding a square of pasture. The elaborate black carriage out front did not belong. But it, too, Daniel knew well, and its owner didn’t pay social calls.

“Mom?” Daniel called as he edged through the front door. No one answered, but Daniel heard raised voices coming from the yard. His mom’s was unmistakable and shrill, close to breaking. He rushed outside through a door left ajar, scattering a pair of hens as he ran, and there he found them: the landlord in black velvet robes harnessing a bleating goat and his mother kneeling in the dirt with her arms around the goat’s neck and pleading.

“You can’t take her! I’ll have the money, I just need a week—”

“As you said last week, and the week before that. I’m not giving you any more exceptions!”

He tugged on the goat’s rope and Daniel’s mom held on. The goat gave a distressed bleat.

“Let her go, you’ll hurt her!” Daniel yelled as he stepped between them.

His mom released the goat. “Daniel!” she said and wrapped her arms around him instead.

He faced the landlord, Mr. McGregor, who was securely holding the last goat from what had once been their small herd. “We had nearly the whole month’s rent and loan repayment prepared for you! What on earth are you taking Maisie for?”

“‘Nearly’ isn’t cutting it anymore, Colter. And you still owe two months back pay from when you were in mourning, plus your old man’s gambling debts...”

“We’re paying it back! Here,” he said, pulling a leather satchel from his pocket with his most recent wages. “This will cover the rest of the month and your interest.”

Mr. McGregor picked through the coins and tutted. “Not enough for King Leopold’s new tax.”

“New tax?”

“You hadn’t heard? Oh, I suppose you country folk are always behind on the news. King Leopold issued a new land tax to finance his campaigns to the desert lands. It comes out to three silvers for the pair of you.”

“I’ll have it for you next week, I swear, just don’t take the goat.”

“Either I take the goat now, or I’m raising the interest on your debts by ten percent.”

The thought sent Daniel into a cold sweat. It was too much.

McGregor’s lips curled into a smirk. He had won this round, and he knew it. Daniel’s mom made a move toward Maisie, but Daniel stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“There now. I knew you could be reasonable,” McGregor said. “I don’t do this to be cruel. I am only a farmer myself after all.”

The only sort of “farming” McGregor did was take credit for the vegetables his servants produced and prune his flower garden.

“Tell you what, Colter,” he went on. “If you pay up the rest plus half a month in advance by new moon, you can have her back.”

Daniel grudgingly agreed. What else could he do?

Daniel’s mom couldn’t watch as Maisie was loaded up in the back of McGregor’s carriage. She gently tugged on Daniel’s sleeve and disappeared into the cottage. Daniel waited until McGregor was gone, then he surveyed the mess left behind—gates left open, straw bedding scattered about, hens roaming outside their pens. Part of him wanted to clean it up, but he decided to leave it be.

Inside, his mom had set up a kettle for tea and put a plate of plain biscuits on the table. He pulled up his usual chair and mentally calculated how much money he’d have to put together to give McGregor an advance by new moon, which was in less than two weeks’ time. It would take all his wages, and then some more. But McGregor had said it was either that or a ten percent interest raise. How much more would that cost them monthly? How much more of his pay would disappear, how much less money there would be each month for Mom and the animals to live on?

His mom pressed a kiss to Daniel’s brow. “Daniel. You came right in time. If it weren’t for you, Maisie would be going straight to market now. At least now we’ll get her back.”

“But McGregor was still determined to have her.” Daniel absently shuffled the biscuits on the platter, thinking about sums and Angharrad’s words from earlier. If not one bad thing, then another. Better to be practical. “Mama, what if we did sell Maisie? It would give us at least a whole month of rent, maybe two.”

“No,” his mom said firmly. “She was Gerda’s favorite.”

Gerda, his little sister who had died not two years ago. She’d been only a kid, and as children often do, she’d gotten in an adult’s way. But the adult had been a cruel sorcerer, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone. They weren’t even left with a body to bury.

“I know, Mom, but is that really reason enough to keep her? She didn’t milk at all last season. Maybe it’s time to let her go.”

He looked down as he said it, eyes avoiding the chair next to his where his baby sister once sat. Sometimes, there seemed to be a Gerda-shaped hole there, an emptiness that would suck him in if he got too close.

His mom reached across the table and covered his hands with her own too-thin, too-bony fingers. His eyes met hers. She looked far older than her true age, her skin papery and riddled with wrinkles. But the laugh lines outnumbered the frown lines.

“Gerda loved Maisie. And we loved Gerda. It’s all connected. And you know what I’ve always told you?”

“That love is strength,” Daniel repeated her favorite proverb, but right now it sounded hollow. “But how can you still believe that after Pa abandoned us like he did?”

His eyes were wet with angry tears. He wiped them on his sleeve before they could fall, feeling even more frustrated that he looked and felt so weak.

“Daniel, sweetheart, listen to me. Love—True Love—is the greatest magic of them all. It survives every darkness and breaks any curse. There is no greater strength than that, and I know it’s true because I see it. Because I have you. Because you could leave to start a good life elsewhere with the skills you have, but you’re still here.”

“That’s different. I’m your son.”

“You’re also a man now; you have been for many seasons, and if you wanted to go I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.”

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“You’re not. Here’s the thing about love, you have to give your whole heart to it and work to maintain it. Your father’s heart wasn’t in it, and he certainly didn’t want to do the work. But you, my boy, have done everything to keep this family together. That’s True Love, and it keeps us going, no matter what the world throws at us, and no matter how many extra fees McGregor adds.”

Daniel snorted. “He does love coming up with something new each month.”

“I think he does it because he’s jealous.”

“Of us? How?”

“Because we have each other, and all the time we’re happy and laughing and out in town making merry. All he has are his flowers.”

That coaxed a smile out of him. “I hope a bunch of rabbits eat all his flowers, and his lettuce too,” Daniel said, which made his mom chuckle.

“Faith manages, my boy. Remember that,” his mom said. “We’ll get Maisie back and milking again, which will mean fresh cheese to go with these biscuits.”

Daniel finally took one and bit into it. “They would taste better with goat’s cheese,” he said with a teasing grin.

“You’re a good man, Daniel, and you’re not your father. That calls for a little celebration.” She got up and rummaged through a cabinet. She pulled out a jar from the very back. The honey. A pricey little luxury they used sparingly. She solemnly dipped a spoon in and raised it slowly so it glistened in the light. Then she drizzled streaks of the molten gold across the plain biscuits. When it stopped dripping, she dunked the spoon with its remaining coat of honey into Daniel’s mug of tea.

“No cheese yet, but we make do,” she said with a wink.

He grabbed a biscuit and savored the sun-soaked sweetness over the coarse grain wafer. It felt lavish. This must be what Regina ate all the time—honey on toasted bread, candied fruit, caramel, coffee with cream…

“What’s on your mind, Daniel? I know that look,” his mom said.

“Nothing. I was just thinking.”

His mom kept looking at him, prompting with her eyes, leaving him to fill the silence.

So he did. “What if…” He hesitated. The only person he’d told about his feelings for Regina was Angharrad, and that hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. “What if you think you’ve fallen for someone that you can never be with?”

“Do you mean if that person fancies someone else?”

“I don’t think she fancies anyone right now.”

“Has she said she doesn’t like you back?”

“I’ve never asked. I can’t.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“She lives in a different world. I’m not the kind of boy a girl like her falls for. But still, I think I could be her friend, or more, if only she saw me that way.”

His mom looked at him intently as she took a biscuit. “Does this girl have a name?”

He took a sip of tea and confessed, “It’s Regina Mills. The daughter of the family I’m working for.”

He braced for her to choke on the biscuit or knock an elbow into her mug in shock, but no such thing happened. She didn’t gasp or stutter. She didn’t laugh either, which had been Angharrad’s reaction. His mom only smiled wide as a Cheshire cat and said, “My, my, my.”

The next words tumbled out of his mouth. “So, you see what I mean? The only child of a noble family and a stable boy? It could never be. I have no chance.”

“I don’t see the problem. Does she care strongly about status and appearances?”

“No.”

“And is she a good person; a person you respect?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I think it’s perfectly conceivable.”

Daniel wanted so badly to believe it as easily as she did.

He had been eighteen when he’d started at the Mills’ household, Regina sixteen. From the beginning he’d noticed her warm smile and kindness to the horses, and how she asked for things instead of demanding them. She lacked the arrogance, snooty manner, and high-pitched, whiny voice of her predecessors, Drizella and Anastasia.

One day he was charged with being her driver into town. They were passing through the outskirts and navigating around the deep, watery gullies striping the road after a long rain when suddenly she yelled, “Stop! Pull over!”

She leapt out without even waiting for him to do so or minding the puddles, heading straight toward an old tavern.

“Lady Regina?” he called, unsure whether he should stop her. She was not going into the tavern, though. She was approaching a horse tied in front of it. As soon as Daniel saw it, his stomach went sour. The horse was starved, nearly skeletal. The points of his pelvis stood out too sharply on his hindquarters. His chestnut coat was dull and ungroomed, half-covered with dried mud and a large manure stain on his flank.

Though the horse looked listless, with his head hanging low to the ground and eyes half-closed, he snapped up at Regina’s approach with surprising fierceness. He pinned his ears back and bared his teeth, clamping down on the air in front of her to show he intended to do the same to her arm if it came within reach.

“Lady Regina!” Daniel yelled. Was she foolish enough to get a hoof to the jaw for scaring a strange horse?

She stepped back, turning to the side, dropping her shoulders, and lowering her gaze, making herself smaller and less threatening. “Easy boy,” she cooed. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Exactly how he was taught you were supposed to approach a frightened horse.

The horse pawed the ground restlessly, scraping at damp earth. Regina waited a couple minutes for him to calm before taking a slow step closer. The horse jerked his head upward but didn’t lash out. Regina bent down and set a treat carefully on the ground, then backed away, continuing to murmur encouragingly. The horse’s nostrils flared wide. She stood still. Daniel didn’t dare move. The horse didn’t move.

After a long moment the chestnut snatched up the treat. “Good boy,” Regina praised. “That’s right.” She approached him slowly, and this time the horse let her. She stroked his shoulder, ghosting her fingers down his protruding ribs. “My gods,” she gasped.

But it wasn’t only ribs Daniel was seeing. From a long-buried memory, he saw a torn-up patchwork quilt on a dapple grey back, still bleeding. Men could hurt creatures with knife and whip, but they could do damage just as well without drawing blood.

Regina turned to Daniel, and her expression was all wrong for a noble girl. No disgust, no haughtiness. Only distress. It was so nakedly emotive he could feel her horror like heat on his skin. “Have you ever seen anything like this? How could anyone do this?”

For a second, a strong sense of familiarity overwhelmed him. They sounded like his own words, his own horror.

Then a particularly loud whoop escaped the tavern, and he remembered the girl admitting sheepishly that her father had been drunk.

Daniel found himself answering, “There’s a lot of cruelty in this world. Men are terrible about hurting things. Things that are weaker, things they own…”

“Things that can’t fight back…” Regina mused. Her brow clouded with thoughts and her eyes became distant. Something in Daniel—he couldn’t tell where the impulse had come from—wanted to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but he hesitated. Would that be inappropriate? She was a noble, he was her servant. But she didn’t _feel_ like a noble right now, with her heart pouring out to this ratty horse that wasn’t even hers. She just seemed so—his mind fished for the right word. Human.

The horse, for its part, was now watching him curiously.

Then Regina’s face resolved itself into a look of steely determination. She pressed a quick kiss to the horse’s chest and said, “You wait here, I’ll come back for you.”

The next thing Daniel knew, she was marching into the tavern.

“Lady Regina?” He ran after her.

Once inside, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The thick amberglass windows didn’t let in much light. Small oil lamps at each table and behind the bar made up the difference. They cast heavy, angled shadows on the patrons and left the roof blackened with soot. The air had the acrid smell of low-grade tobacco smoke. Regina stood out sorely in the middle of it all. Even her simple blue-gray traveling cloak looked too refined for this place. 

“Who owns the chestnut gelding tied up by himself outside?” she shouted above the raucous of drinking men. The riffraff quieted down a notch. A couple whistles flew in her direction.

“Who be askin’?” said a voice close to the back wall.

Regina strode to the table, Daniel following close behind, unsure what to do. The voice belonged to a middle-aged man with a chest like a barrel. His long hair was probably the color of wheat, but it was hard to tell in this light.

“I am,” Regina said. “So you are the owner of the horse?”

He looked her over, all five feet of her sixteen-year-old self, and flashed a smile with a glinting silver tooth. “That I be,” he said. “Why? You want to go on a pony ride, little girlie? ‘Cus I could’a give you one.”

The way he rolled his hips on the bench as he said it and the way his buddies snickered low made Daniel queasy. He could feel that what would happen next would be bad, but he had no idea how to stop it.

“No, I want to buy him,” Regina said. “Name your price.”

_Ooh-hoo-hoo!_ trilled a couple of the man’s companions.

“Ah, yer here for business,” the silver-toothed man said. “Yer barking up the wrong tree. Horse ain’t worth a copper.”

“I don’t care what you think he’s worth. I want you to state an amount for which I can take him off your hands.”

“He ain’t for sale, girlie. But if you wanna warm an ol’ man’s lap, I might consider it.”

Regina said nothing in response, but her frown hardened. She looked down at him as though she was regarding a ripe dung beetle. Daniel wondered where she’d learned that look.

“No?” the man said. “Then run along home an’ quit bothering me.” He turned his attention back to a plate of chicken. Daniel was about to breathe a sigh of relief when, quick as cat, Regina swiped his flagon of golden ale.

“Ey!” he shouted, nearly stumbling off the bench as he lunged for her. Regina danced nimbly out of his reach. Ale sloshed and dribbled over the side. “You dare?” he snarled, lumbering to his feet.

Regina straightened, looked him dead in the eyes, and upended the flagon on the grimy floor. Both Daniel and the silver-toothed man were frozen to the spot.

The man recovered first. “Vicious little trollop, you’ll pay!” His heavy barrel chest heaved like a bull’s.

Regina thrust out her silken purse satchel, which stopped him. “Sure, I’ll pay for your nasty ale and your horse too. There’s fifty gold pieces in there, more than you’ll get on any market. It’s a generous offer and I suggest you take it.”

The purse dangled loosely from her two outstretched fingers. She was nearly a whole head shorter than him and half his girth, and she wasn’t even quivering.

_Shit._

Daniel saw the drunk man think about moving before he actually did, and he lunged to push Regina out of the way as a meaty fist came flying for her. The punch landed on Daniel’s shoulder instead, and damn, this guy hit hard. The purse fell with a clatter, Regina close behind.

Daniel staggered upright, putting himself between the silver-toothed man and Regina. He was no fighter, had never learned to throw a proper punch, but he was at least bigger than Regina, and that had to count for something, right?

Silver Tooth grunted and moved to sidestep him, one hand sweeping him aside like a fly. Daniel swung his fist.

Though drunk, the man moved fast. He caught Daniel’s fist in one hand and flung the other closed-knuckled at Daniel’s cheek. It hit home. A daze of light and pain exploded behind Daniel’s eye and he stumbled backward.

Regina threw the empty glass flagon in her hand. Silver Tooth ducked and it broke against the wall.

“Oi! That’s enough!” A new man—the barkeep, judging by his apron and dishrag—stepped in and cuffed his hand around Silver Tooth’s wrist. “No fighting in my bar! You know the rules.”

Silver Tooth conceded with a grumble and wrenched his hand away. He sat down still leering at Regina.

The barkeep turned to them. “As for you two—”

Regina jumped in, “I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll pay for the drink and your troubles.” She sounded meek, girlish, and polite as punch. Her whole demeanor—her posture, eyes, even the pitch of her voice—had changed so quickly it gave Daniel whiplash.

“You two can get out of my bar!”

“Of course. I’m sorry again.” She gathered her purse and popped a quick, awkward curtsy. At least, Daniel thought it was a curtsy. She pressed a small silver piece on the edge of the bar as she made for the door.

A cackling chant of “Run along home, little princess!” and a couple coyote whistles followed the two of them out the door until it swung shut, sealing the voices inside. They were alone again.

Regina kept walking, not breaking her long stride, and swore under her breath. Daniel slowly followed in her wake. He touched his face gently where the man had hit him. It was smarting something fierce and tender to the touch. It would bruise alright. He couldn’t believe he had gotten into his first bar fight. And Regina? That girl had been ready to go toe to toe with that burly man all for the sake of an abused horse, and she hadn’t flinched once. That had been… something. _She_ was something.

The abused horse in question seemed to be watching them keenly. Daniel sensed some uncommon intelligence behind those eyes.

Suddenly, fingers other than his own were passing over his face. Regina’s. “You didn’t have to do that for me. I wouldn’t have asked you to,” she said.

“It’s fine. I couldn’t _not_ step in, seeing what was about to happen.”

“Well, thank you. I have some salve at home for bruises; I’ll give you some.”

Her fingers stayed there, lightly resting on his cheekbone. Then Daniel remembered his place and ducked his head in deference, escaping her touch. “That won’t be necessary, Lady Regina.”

“Just Regina, please” she said and then smiled cheekily. “And I can’t _not_ , seeing how purple that’s about to get.”

Daniel was about to thank her, but she looked back to the horse. “There has to be something else we can do. I’m not going to leave him with that man. Will you help me?”

“Me?”

Again, Daniel was thrown. She bucked off all his expectations for noble girls.

“Yes, please, will you help me? Because I can’t think of anything and I can’t exactly _steal_ him.”

Her face was filled with such fiery intensity. It was his duty to do anything she asked, but in this case, there was nothing he would rather do than rescue that poor creature from that drunk, barrel-chested piece of vermin.

“I will, of course.”

“Thank you. And one more thing? Don’t tell anyone about this, especially not my mother.”

“Sure, as you wish.”

She nodded. “If only there was a way to make him take the horse to market.”

“There might be. This man has no scruples; I know the kind. If the horse suddenly got ill or lame, he’d rush to the bidding block rather than pay a healer to treat him.” This Daniel had seen too during his apprenticeship—cattle and horses turning up in market corrals after his mentor had offered a diagnosis their owners didn’t like.

“So what are you suggesting?” Regina asked.

“I know a thing or two about herbs, powders, and tinctures. I trained as an apprentice healer once, long ago... But, there are also tinctures that can make horses sick.”

“You mean _poison_?”

“No, and yes. Here’s the thing—poisons and cures are often the same thing. It’s all a matter of how much and how you give it. Take too much of a cure or take it the wrong way, it kills you. And poisons in small amounts often turn out to be medicines. You know how nettle leaves sting your skin? If you make tea with them, it eases spring allergies. You see?”

“I suppose.”

“If I get the dosage of this tincture right, the horse would only start looking sick enough to scare the guy into selling, and later he’d recover.”

“ _If_ ,” Regina repeated.

“If. There’s always a risk, but I know the medicine woman in town who is very good at these things. And if we do nothing—”

“Then he keeps suffering,” she finished for him. She weighed the idea for a minute before she ultimately said, “Take me to this medicine woman.”

The medicine woman’s shop was on the far side of town, at the end of a long, empty lane leading up a hill, right at the edge of the woods. It wasn’t so much a shop as a smokehouse and storeroom for herbs near her hermitage that she would open to serve tea as her whims dictated. People only heard about the tearoom through word of mouth as she posted no signs for it. And word of her wasn’t always flattering. Some called her a witch. Maybe she was; Daniel had never heard her deny the rumors when confronted with them. She’d simply wave the questions off, saying she was in the business of plants, not in telling people what to think.

After young Daniel found himself without a mentor to teach him the art of healing, he had befriended the medicine woman—Valerie. She wasn’t interested in apprentices, but she had been willing to pass on some of her knowledge about the herbs, roots, fruits, preserves, fungi, powders, totems, and minerals she kept in return for the occasional help with gathering and gardening. He couldn’t come regularly as he once had, but he still considered Valerie a good friend.

A small bell rang as Daniel and Regina entered the tearoom. One wall was hung entirely with bunches of dried herbs, flowers, and twigs. They were layered row by row like the wild, falling tresses of a nymph’s hair. Next to them, rows of shelves were crowded with various sized jars with handwritten labels, and in between were tucked stones, crystals, feathers, and more than one animal skull. On the far wall hung pelts and assorted jugs. The ceiling was festooned with garlands of freshly-strung mushroom slices, clearly in the process of being dried. There was also a cluttered working counter, lots of candles, braided garlic, an old stove with a kettle, and in the middle of the room a homey table with a bouquet of flowers that were clearly unnecessary given how much nature was already inside.

The room had always had a fresh, earthy aroma which Daniel found comforting. That day the mushrooms smelled strongest, like a loamy treebed in the woods after it had rained. He’d spent many pleasant afternoons here, helping Valerie lay out fresh herbs for drying, or watching over her shoulder as she combined ingredients in a little cauldron on the stove and kept up a running commentary on each step that was sometimes informative, sometimes digressing off-topic.

Regina took it all in with wide, bewildered eyes. Valerie appeared from around the corner. She was very petite and had a bushy head of curly white hair, puffy bags under her eyes, and a nose like a big, drooping prune.

“Daniel, dear, how nice to see you. And what’s this? A fine lady, in my humble storehouse. Oh, my. Pardon the mess and crude furniture, my dear. You two will be wanting some tea,” Valerie said. Regina opened her mouth to protest, but the medicine woman cut her off. “Sit, sit. Whatever you need, there’s always time for tea first.”

Daniel shrugged and pulled up a chair for Regina while Valerie got the kettle going. He knew from experience that it was impossible to get much out of her until tea was served.

The two of them watched as Valerie measured out herbs from various jars and tossed them in a mesh strainer. She uttered a blessing over each herb as it went in, and over the kettle as it heated. Her movements were familiar to Daniel, but Regina was watching her with intrigue and perhaps a twinge of awe.

Soon they each had a hot mug of tea before them. It was the pale yellow of apple flesh in color and smelled floral and refreshing, the way a summer breeze over a mountain meadow did.

Only after they all drank did Valerie ask what they needed. Regina jumped in, explaining they were here on behalf a half-starved horse who needed help. Again, Daniel was moved by how passionate she was about the horse’s plight. But she was still unclear about what Daniel had planned, so she prompted him to take over. So Daniel explained what he needed, leaving out as much as he could about the owner and how borderline criminal the deed would be. Fortunately, Valerie’s confidence was good currency for discretion.

She led him to the back, to a cabinet she kept locked. He thought she might give him some bloodroot to get the job done; he knew much about the plant’s chemical properties and its toxicity to horses. But Valerie reached for vial that Daniel was entirely unfamiliar with. The label was too old and stained to read. Valerie prepared a base solution with water, sugar, and some basic vitamin supplement in a clean flask, and then, with great care, she took her smallest metal scoop, dug out a measure of white powder, and added it too.

“Iocane powder,” she explained as she quickly stowed the vial again. “Odorless, tasteless, and colorless. Very deadly to man, surprisingly less so for equines.” She handed him the flask. “There you go, Danny boy. Best mix that with some feed when you give it to him, especially if the colt’s as skinny as you say.”

Daniel craned his neck to take a second look at the curious bottle before Valerie shut the cabinet door.

It wasn’t too hard to find the horse again at the tavern and slip him the solution while his owner was drinking. The next weekend Daniel prepared the carriage early in anticipation of market day. When Regina called for him, he was ready.

At the market, Daniel followed in Regina’s wake like a dutiful shadow. Sure enough, they soon spotted both horse and owner among the bustle of market block. As soon as the silver-toothed man saw them, his face creased into a frown and his thick brows hooded his eyes like storm clouds.

Regina strolled toward the pair slowly, looking more like a highborn dame out leisurely browsing for trinkets than the girl Daniel was used to seeing in the barn. She was dressed in finery today, wearing a green cape patterned with leaves embroidered in gold thread and a dark green felt hat adorned with a fistful of long, shiny black feathers on the side. She stopped in front of the chestnut and looked him over as though appraising him. He certainly looked sick. His eyes were dull and he was sweating and breathing heavily like he’d been exercised in the hot sun.

“What are you doing here?” the silver-toothed man growled.

Regina smiled innocently. She had her chin tilted in such a way that, even though she was much shorter, she appeared to be looking down on him from a greater height. Daniel was impressed she could pull that off. “This is a market, and I want to buy your horse.”

“I told you before, girlie, he ain’t for sale.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “If you’re not selling, you’re standing on the wrong side of the auction corral.”

“I ain’t selling to _you_.”

“No, you’re selling him to the highest bidder. That’s what you agreed to by bringing him here, is it not?” She didn’t give him time to reply. “And as this is a public auction, my money is as good as anyone else’s.”

He gave no response, only shaking his head and muttering something rude under his breath.

Regina ignored this. She tipped her hat slightly and bid him “Good day.”

When the chestnut came up for auction, most people weren’t interested. A few boys in workmen’s clothes placed tentative bids. Daniel guessed they had very little knowledge of or experience with horses and were only looking for a young animal to pull a cart at a cheap price. Regina outbid them with ease. As soon as the price passed twelve gold pieces, all of the smiths were out.

Daniel helped Regina collect the chestnut colt and they headed out of the market square. The silver-toothed man was skulking around the sidelines, watching them leave. The weight of coins in his purse seemed to have mellowed his stormy mood, but he wasn’t quite finished with them.

“Hey girlie!” he shouted. Regina paused to acknowledge him. He came closer and bent down to her level so he was nearly breathing on her face. “I have a partin’ word fer ye: Be careful. He bites.” He clacked his teeth together inches from her nose to demonstrate, his silver tooth glinting.

Regina didn’t flinch. “I’m sure he bites _you._ ”

And without another word, she turned, gave the chestnut’s lead rope a tug, and signaled Daniel to follow.


	3. "Let me help you"

Daniel stood precariously on a ladder, arm outstretched with a broom to reach a huge cobweb near the ceiling. The spider who’d made it had found the perfect unreachable spot to avoid him. Now the web was coated with a layer of brown dust and a real eyesore. As Daniel leaned over as far as he dared to swat at it, he could hear the sky rumbling overhead. That was odd—it had been clear less than twenty minutes ago. Whatever this was, it was moving fast.

He was interrupted by a horse barging in at a run. “What the damned—” Daniel swore.

Rocinante. In full tack, no less.

The horse made straight for the base of the ladder, prancing around it and whinnying insistently. Daniel climbed down and snatched at the reins, but Rocinante danced out of reach, tossing his head. “Easy boy, stand still,” Daniel said. Rocinante was having none of it. He dodged Daniel and circled around him.

The chestnut had an annoying habit of escaping his stall and making Daniel chase after him, but this wasn’t playful. Rocinante’s neck was sweaty and stretched tight as a lute string. “Where is your mistress?” Daniel wondered. If Rocinante was saddled up, Regina should be close behind.

Rocinante took off back the way he’d come and Daniel ran after. The horse led him down the path toward the arena and back paddocks, pausing every few yards to look back and make sure he was still following. The horse stopped near the edge of the riding arena, eyes locked with Daniel’s. “Rocinante, come here!” Daniel ordered. Rocinante threw his head back and trotted through the open gate into the arena. When Daniel reached it, he saw who else was there, and his heart snagged in his throat. “Oh no,” he breathed and ran in.

This wasn’t that bad. She just needed to catch her breath and walk it off. She was fine.

Her arms hugged the wooden post of a jump taking her weight and keeping her upright. The same jump Rocinante had refused when she’d pointed him at it.

It had been her fault, really. She’d messed up the count on her strides between the fences in the first combination; she’d taken the turn too deep going toward the third. Her approach was off. They were coming at the fence off center and at an angle, and still she had chosen to take the jump— _overcompensating, always overcompensating, damn it Regina!_ —rather than circle around and correct. She’d been forward off the saddle ready to jump. Her body went straight, Rocinante’s veered sharply left. She’d lost her stirrup and went careening off his back. Right foot went first, the left still caught in the stirrup iron. It hit the ground at an angle with a sharp bolt of pain and the rest of her body tumbled.

Now she was supporting herself and Rocinante had very unhelpfully fled the arena. But she was walking this off. Starting right now.

First step: letting go of the post.

She took a deep breath and pushed her weight back on both feet.

Immediately, pain. Searing and awful.

_Walk._

She forced her feet to move, hobbling one stride, then two, hissing through clenched teeth. Three.

The fourth, she pitched her weight forward gracelessly and caught herself on the post of another jump. She leaned her brow against the wood and waited for her head to stop swimming.

She dimly registered the sound of hooves padding into the arena and a couple moments later a voice calling her name: “Regina!”

_Not Mother’s voice, thank the gods not Mother’s._

She looked up and saw two things. One, Rocinante was back, and second, a figure was running toward her. The stable boy.

He had stopped a few feet short, leaning forward as though anxious to reach out to her. His face was pale.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I can walk.” To prove it, she steeled her nerves and stood again. She took a step trying not to limp. The stable boy followed closely, keeping a bubble of space between them. She didn’t make it far before her bad ankle betrayed her and she had to catch herself on the jump poles.

The stable boy—Daniel—inhaled sharply as she did. He reached out instinctively, as though to catch her, but refrained from actually touching her.

Then he changed his mind.

He took another step, closing the gap between them, and put his hands on her shoulders, comforting her. “Easy, easy,” he said. “What happened?”

“I was doing a course. The green x to this gray vertical to that yellow one right there. I was crooked on the approach. I should’ve skipped it but I didn’t. Rocinante refused it.”

“Wait, _this_ to the yellow? That’s a hairpin turn.”

She shrugged. “I’ve done it before.”

“That’s mad. I mean—that’s an incredibly advanced combination. I don’t know many riders who’d try it, much less jump it alone.”

Regina smiled despite herself. He seemed so impressed. This was far different than Daddy praising her riding the way he praised her for anything she did; Daniel actually seemed to know a bit about horsemanship.

“Well, it seems I won’t be attempting it again this afternoon.”

She brought herself back on both feet and, ignoring the pain, hobbled another step.

“Whoa, Regina, wait!”

“I’ve got this!” she retorted.

She made it to the other end of the jump and stopped. Ahead of her was a daunting, open expanse of arena, with no more posts to rest against until she reached the gate. It had never seemed bigger.

A gentle hand touched her arm. “Regina, please, slow down. Let me help you.”

She turned back and looked into Daniel’s blue eyes. They were earnest and full of nothing but sympathy. Why did he _want_ to help?

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping my place. But please, don’t keep going. Let me at least take a look at your leg.”

Slowly, she nodded.

Daniel kneeled and felt along the length of her calf with deft fingers and a firm grip around the muscle. His tactile examination seemed practiced. Hadn’t he mentioned he’d apprenticed under a doctor before?

“It’s pretty swollen. I’d need to take the boot off to know more. May I?”

Regina bit her lip. “Okay, but please be careful.”

“As you wish,” he said. His voice sounded very soothing as he did.

Regina silently thanked the gods that she’d worn her ankle boots today and not the tall ones. That would’ve been a nightmare.

Daniel took his time loosening the laces and gently parting the tongue of leather wide, easing the boot off to cause her as little pain as possible. Regina kept her face schooled in a stoic expression throughout the examination and only winced once. She watched Daniel’s fingers as they felt their way around her ankle, pressing and pinching around joint and bone, then moving her foot around with his palm cupping her heel. She was used to seeing him tossing hay bales, hefting wheelbarrows, and digging with a shovel—rough tasks for rough hands. But Daniel had a surprisingly gentle and precise touch. He had learned well from his doctor master.

When Daniel was satisfied, he handed her boot back and said, “The ligaments are sprained pretty badly, but it doesn’t seem like anything is torn or broken. Still, you should rest, bandage, and ice that ankle or they will tear.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Just then, sudden gusts of wind picked up from all directions whipping up a fray. The nearby trees bent their crowns leaves rustled loudly. The sky had darkened by several degrees. A warning.

“Storm’s coming quick,” Daniel said. “Here, I’ll help you.” He offered his shoulder to her. Regina briefly wondered why he was going out of his way to be so kind to her. The other servants didn’t comment on her scrapes and bruises and they seemed only too eager to be dismissed when she was disheveled or crying. She’d never been exceptionally kind to the stable boy. What had she done to deserve this?

This was no time to ponder. She leaned against Daniel’s side and he wrapped his arm securely around her waist. He let her set the pace as they walked toward the gate. For every step with her bad ankle he took nearly all her weight with ease. It seemed the hay bales paid off.

The wind buffeted them from all sides, pulling strands of hair from her braid. It whistled and howled.

“Demons out chasing banshees,” Daniel remarked.

“Hm?”

“Just a saying we have,” he explained.

“It’s rather on-point.”

As they reached the gate, the first drops of rain began to fall. It was no soft drizzle but fat, heavy drops hitting their faces. The ether was about to let loose.

“Daniel, leave me here and take Rocinante to the barn.”

“But you—”

“I’m fine,” she said, making it clear she wasn’t brooking an argument. “He hasn’t been cooled down from jumping.”

They both knew what that meant—a horse still hot from exercise plus cold, drenching rain was a recipe for a severely ill steed. Still, Regina could see on Daniel’s face how reluctant he was to take the obvious course of action. Her first instinct would’ve been to insist, but she simply said “Please?”

It was plenty. Daniel bowed his head, saying what he always said: “As you wish.”

She let that echo in her mind for a moment while he and Rocinante made for the shelter of the barn and the world seemed to hold its breath. _As you wish... As you wish._ They were only words of assent, but in his voice they took on some other quality. Some deeper meaning. It was there but she couldn’t quite pin it down.

Regina heard the downpour coming as a rolling drumming on the earth moments before it hit her. The rain started falling all at once in a punishing torrent, sloshing the ground and her body. She heard another banshee-like cry in the wind.

She knew what she had to do. The boot was still in her hand. She bent down, snuck her toes in. There was no time to be gentle. She gritted her teeth and tugged. Hard. Her cry of pain was lost to the tempest, but it was done.

Her clothes were already drenched and the torrent made it hard to see, so Regina put her arm up to shield her eyes and began to run. Or at least jog as fast as she dared up the path to shelter. Before she made it halfway, a dark, water-blurred figure intercepted her, yelling something that sounded like “Wait!”

Before she had time to protest, two strong arms scooped her body up. Her face was pressed against rough, scratchy wool that smelled of hay and horsehair. “Daniel?”

He held her close and sprinted to the barn. Once inside, he put her down gently and shut the doors. She was so bewildered that she didn’t even know what to say. Frankly, she hadn’t expected him to come back for her in that downpour. But he had. And he’d _carried_ her all the way here. No one had picked her up and carried her since—well, since almost before she could remember. Daddy had stopped doing it after Mother criticized him multiple times for spoiling her. It had felt, quite frankly, wonderful, like she was as light and precious as a porcelain doll.

Daniel sunk into a half-bow. “I’m sorry. I know I didn’t have permission, but there was no time for formalities.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you did,” Regina said, still feeling dazed.

Most of the torches that lit the aisle had been blown out by the wind. She automatically started toward the furnace to relight them, but Daniel cut off her approach. “I’ll take of this. You rest that foot.”

Regina nodded and leaned against Gracie’s stall door. Well, technically the Friesian mare’s full name was The Grace of a Queen; Mother had some lofty ideas about naming horses.

Daniel busily relit lamps until he reached the last one by Gracie. “Can I ask—why were you out there jumping without someone to spot for you?”

Regina shrugged. “My riding instructor is only here once a week for my lessons. But that’s not enough. I need more practice than that if I’m going to…” She stopped herself, reeling back the escaping words.

“Going to show?” Daniel asked.

“How did you know?”

He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a folded-up paper, handing it to her. “You dropped that a few days ago.”

Regina unfolded it. It was the flyer for the Fox and Horn Show. Her whole body tensed. Caught.

Daniel only smiled sheepishly and said, “You ride beautifully. I think you’d do well in a show.”

“Really?” Regina asked, then mentally kicked herself for sounding like an idiot. _Really? Of all the replies in the world, you had to go with ‘really’?_

“Yes. Really,” Daniel said.

He was smiling at her and looking at her with those blue eyes—had they always been that blue? Regina shook her head and looked to Rocinante in his stall, feeling flustered but unsure why. Maybe the fall had addled her. Maybe her attempts to use her injured ankle were making her lightheaded. This was a strange day.

The rain pounded mercilessly on the roof. Then, an explosion of blinding white light outlined the barn door and an earsplitting crack of thunder sounded overhead. Rocinante neighed shrilly, screaming in terror. He reared up on his hind legs, hooves flailing. The whites of his eyes flashed.

“Rocinante!” she cried, about to rush to him, but Daniel grabbed her shoulders and pulled her backward. “Let go!” she yelled.

“No.”

She would have fought his grip, but his firm, commanding tone caught her off guard. “No?”

Without explanation, Daniel stepped forward to put himself between her and the terrified horse, signaling her not to follow. 

He stepped forward carefully. First he muttered, “Easy there, big guy, easy,” and then he began to hum.

The melody was sweet and soothing, childlike.

The rain continued thrumming loudly and the wind wailed. Regina stood stock-still, listening close and trying to tune out the sound of the storm.

_Doo-do-dada-do-dada-do_

_Doo-do-dada-do-dada-do_

The hum turned into words, then into verses of a song.

_Oh, the Spring it is a coming_

_And the trees are softly blooming_

_And the wild mountain thyme blooms along the purple heather_

_Will ye go, laddie, go, laddie go?_

She was mesmerized. Rocinante too stopped his wild kicking and neighing to listen to Daniel’s song. He was still tense, but his ears were fixed on Daniel.

_And we will all go together_

_To pick wild mountain thyme all along the purple heather_

_Will ye go, laddie, go, laddie go?_

She’d never heard the song before. It was no grand, intimidating composition her mother played on the piano. It was simple, but sweet, playful, and very pretty. She’d never known music could be enjoyable like this. Rocinante seemed to bob his head in tempo, and Daniel let out a grin and his voice soared. He was having fun now.

_I shall build my love a bower over by yon crystal fountain_

_And in it I shall pile all the treasures of the mountain._

_Will ye go, laddie, go? And we will all go together…_

Then abruptly the grin vanished and his brows pinched together. The tempo of the song changed from upbeat to slow and sad.

_Well if my true love will not go, I shall surely find another_

_Who’ll pick wild mountain thyme all along the purple heather_

_Will ye go, lassie, go? Lassie…_

The last note petered out, giving way to silence. The raindrops and wind sounded louder and Regina strained to hear the melody echoing in her head. It was beautiful. It had set something stirring deep within her ribcage and she was trying to figure out its shape. If she moved, she was afraid the spell would be broken.

The change in gender in the last line wasn’t lost on Regina. Who was the girl in the song that made it so sad?

Daniel reached out a hand and Rocinante accepted the caress. Then the stable boy shifted a little and his eyes met hers. In a moment, she saw everything: Daniel’s shy smile, his kind touch on her horse’s neck, his sure and capable hands, his kind blue eyes. How had she not seen any of it before?

She’d seen him almost every day, but she’d never really _seen_ him, had she? She’d been missing what was right in front of her all along.

She shivered. The cold of her damp clothes was getting to her. The pain in her ankle was almost welcome because of how hot it felt in contrast. The sensation vaguely reminded her of the one time she’d snuck a glass of bourbon from the parlor liquor cabinet when her parents weren’t home. It had tasted awful and scorched her throat on the way down, but sat pleasantly warm in her belly for a long while after. It had also made her woozy in the head, not entirely unlike how she felt right now.

“Regina? You look cold. I can get you a blanket, if you’d like.”

“No.” The word had come out without thinking. She was confused. “Wait. Just… wait.”

He stepped closer. “As you wish,” he said.

Again, Regina registered a deeper subtext underneath the familiar words. It was as if he was saying he wanted to do more for her. That he would do anything; all she had to do was wish for it. He was not only looking at her, but marveling at her. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before.

“I didn’t know you could sing.”

“Oh, that. It’s only an old peasant’s tune.”

“I like it; it’s pretty.”

Despite refusing his offer for a blanket, Regina still shivered violently. Unlike her, Daniel was wearing thick work clothes—a canvas overcoat had kept off most of the rain and his coarse wool shirt looked cozy. Not entirely sure what she was doing, she stepped closer and took his hands.

They were warm, exactly as she’d expected. Her fingers felt like ten icicles melting in his palms.

“You’re freezing,” he said.

“You’re warm,” she replied.

Maybe if it weren’t for that promising warmth, she wouldn’t have come even closer. But at that moment, nothing felt more natural than huddling with him.

Daniel shifted his grip so he could better cover her hands with his. He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles and lifted her hands so he could breathe on her icy fingers. It felt heavenly.

After a moment of this, Regina said, “My arms are cold too, if you wouldn’t mind getting those.”

“As you wish,” he said low and heady, in a way that made her stomach do a somersault, and he began smoothing the gooseflesh on her forearms.

“And my shoulders, please.”

“As you wish.” He made circles there.

This was indulgent, reckless. “And… my face, too.”

Daniel reached up, hesitating only a moment before cupping her cheek. Regina leaned into his open palm and he curled his fingers into her hair. Tough calluses ridged his joints. “As you wish,” he said, his voice nearly a murmur.

Was this really happening? The world had sped up. Her heart was whirling in her chest. But this felt so _right._ Daniel, her stable boy. Did it make her an idiot if she really wanted to be kissed right now…

At that moment, Rocinante let out a high-pitched neigh. Regina and Daniel leapt apart.

The barn doors flew open and there stood Mother. She held an elaborate black umbrella and was clad in a deep maroon raincoat, but Regina didn’t think for a second that she’d walked here. Cora wrinkled her nose as soon as she saw her daughter.

“What on earth are you doing here, Regina? You look like a drowned rat.”

“Mother, the storm caught me off guard and I needed to put the horses away.”

“Isn’t that what we hire him to do?” She waved a hand impassively in Daniel’s direction.

“Yes, I was only…” _Trying to help._

“Never mind. We’re going.”

It was Regina’s cue to follow. But… her ankle. And Rocinante—would he be alright if the storm worsened?

“Well, don’t just stand there, come on.”

Regina nodded obediently and went to join her mother at the doors, taking small steps and hoping she wasn’t visibly limping. Cora grabbed her shoulder and steered her back into the tempest. Once outside, Cora’s purple smokescreen surrounded them, making Regina’s skin prickle. She closed her eyes against it. When she opened them again, she was in the main sitting room. A roaring fire was blazing in the hearth and Daddy stood near it.

Cora flung Regina from her hold as though discarding a filthy rag. Regina winced and clenched her jaw as she caught her balance. Thankfully Mother didn’t see.

“She was out with the horses,” Cora announced to Daddy. Somehow she made it sound like a thinly-veiled insult.

Daddy hurried over to her, pulling her wet hair away from her face. “Darling, you’re soaking wet. I hope you don’t catch a chill.”

“If she catches the flu, maybe it will teach her a lesson,” Cora snipped. Regina wasn’t sure exactly what “lesson” she had in mind, but she held her tongue. “Now, go change and don’t come back until you look respectable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Daniel sings is "Wild Mountain Thyme" and you can listen to it here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKvB3g3HEPQ (Scottish folk duo The Corries)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Z_kwFPyBlw (Ed Sheeran)  
> I did change the gender.


End file.
